


The Other Side

by femmenoire



Category: New Amsterdam (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenoire/pseuds/femmenoire
Summary: Max struggles to sleep alone.
Relationships: Georgia Goodwin/Max Goodwin, Max Goodwin/Helen Sharpe
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	The Other Side

Georgia had a complex bed making system. She always tucked the fitted sheet and comforters in tight at the corners. The first time Max had slept over after their third date, Max had barely slept; he felt as if he’d crawled into a cocoon or a casket. But Georgia had slept so soundly next to him, that he’d never told her how odd it felt and after a while, he’d just gotten used to the snug hold of Georgia’s bedsheets.

He missed it now. 

No matter how hard he tried – how many YouTube videos he consulted – he still couldn’t get the sheets just right. They were too loose or too tight or… something. Off. And every time he changed the bedding he had to fight the emotional meltdown just at the edges of his consciousness because his brain just wanted to spiral. If he couldn’t get the bed made exactly the way Georgia wanted, he worried that eventually he’d forget her. If he couldn’t teach Luna how to make the bed the way her mother did, she’d be missing out on some crucial part of who her mother was and what her parents’ relationship had been built on. 

It was ridiculous. He knew that. He knew that the tightness of the sheets had nothing to do with who Georgia had been as a person. There were so many more things he wanted Luna to know about her mother – so many things he still loved to his marrow – but it was the sheets that occupied his mind every night when he crawled into bed and it just wasn’t right; it didn’t feel right. 

Maybe that’s why he rocked Luna until well after she’d fallen asleep and sometimes – lots of times – he fell asleep on the couch or on top of the covers instead of falling asleep. Maybe his brain had decided that it was better to not know how wrong he’d gotten the tuck and fold than to crawl into bed and have his senses shocked awake by the not rightness of it all. 

Maybe. 

And maybe that was why it was so easy to fall asleep in Helen’s office. He should have taken Luna home, but Helen had packed a travel crib away in her closet just for Luna and he really did need to talk to her about Castro; at least that’s what he told himself and he would tell Helen if she asked. When she asked. 

But deep down even he knew that wasn’t why he’d pulled Luna’s crib from Helen’s closet and then settled onto the small loveseat next to her desk.

He’d only wait a few minutes, he’d lied to himself. 

Just a quick snooze. 

As soon as Helen was back. 

He’d fallen asleep lying to himself, but when he woke up, Helen’s hand on his shoulder, her worried but open face looking down at him and her voice soft and warm as she said his name. 

“Max. Max, are you alright?” 

He went from the blissful darkness that he’d craved since the last day with Georgia to the clinically bright hospital lighting of Helen’s office. 

“Max,” she said again. 

“Helen.” 

Maybe she would think it was sleep, the deep rumble of his voice as it caressed the two syllables of her name. 

Maybe he could pretend it was confusion. 

Maybe. 

It wasn’t either of those things. 

But maybe. 

“Helen,” he said again.

“Max.” 

Her hand moved from his shoulder to his chest, just over his heart. 

That was when he realized it was just a dream. Helen had never touched him that way and he had never wanted her to. Right?

He woke with a start at that simple question, because the answer wasn’t nearly as easy. 

Helen still hadn’t returned and Luna was still sleeping soundly in the travel crib. The lighting was so bright and clinical. Too bright. Too clinical. 

Max avoided looking at himself in any of the reflective surfaces as he scribbled a hasty note to Helen that they needed to talk tomorrow and packed Luna into her carrier. He scurried from the hospital as if he didn’t run it as if Helen might not be just around any corner as if the thought didn’t thrill and terrify him in equal measure. 

That night when he crawled into his bed, he knew it was wrong; the tucks at the foot of the bed weren’t tight enough. 

But that wasn’t what kept him up tonight. He’d always known that it was the cold emptiness of the other side of the bed that was his real problem. He tried not to look to his right and conjure Georgia’s ghost where she’d slept each night before her last. 

But tonight, he refused to look on the other side for fear that he would see the empty pillow or imagine Georgia was resurrected. Tonight he turned his back on the empty other side of his bed for fear that his brain might conjure Helen there, where she shouldn’t be. 

Where he wanted her.

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack"  
> Lykke Li "Sleeping Alone"  
> Foals "Spanish Sahara"  
> Paolo Nutini "No Other Way"


End file.
